7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 5)

--1--

I started typing this blog last night (you know, on FRIDAY, like I am supposed to do), but my very first topic ended up being far too long for a "quick take," which is why I decided to just finish writing it, save it for a future post, and try this post again tomorrow this morning.

--2--

You have NO IDEA how excited I am to be able to give my dog a bath Monday. Oh, I've been counting down the days since she came home from the vet's. She smells like death. Actually she smells like an anthropomorphic Death whose vagina recently fell out. And her hair is all sticky from where I've dropped ice cream on her. Twice. Okay, three times. Don't judge me. She looks like one of the dogs from those awful, awful, awful Sarah McClaucghkauchlaghcklin (that's how you spell it, right?) commercials. Skittles walks into a room, and suddenly "Arms of the Angels" starts playing in my head. It's incredibly pathetic.

--3--

I don't usually tell many people this, mostly because I don't want Dateline tracking me down to interview me and give me all sorts of fame and glory - blegh, who wants THAT - but I'm kind of psychic (emphasis on the "kind of.") It's a very specific and narrow field of psychic vision that I have, which is that I am often blessed with the foresight of what episode of a television show is going to come on. Oooo, eerie, yes, but don't freak out. I swear, I'm harmless. Now, it's not something I can do on command. You can't just ask me to predict an episode and expect me to do it (so a fat lot of good it'll do me at parties, psh). No, what happens is that out of the absolute blue, a random episode of some random TV show just pops into my head. There's no prompting involved, nothing around me ever reminds me of said TV show which then leads me to think of a particular episode. It's just like someone places the thought into my brain without even asking me (the NERVE), and within 24 hours, that episode will be on TV. I know, what a gift, right?! Totally going places with this one. I was merely a young lass of 4 when this first happened to me - I, er...um, "saw" a certain episode of "Sharon, Lois & Bram's Elephant Show" and wouldn' t you know, a few hours later there it was. Ta da! And it's been happening sporadically ever since. Doesn't even matter if the TV show is canceled, if it pops into my head, it'll be on. Guaranteed.

Amazing.

--4--

I don't have a number 4.

--5--

I leave for Disney in 66 days, and my goodness, the anticipation is going to be the end of me. Also, the end of my clean underwear.

During my first College Program (from now on - DCP), well, let's just say it didn't start out so great. I was initially put in the Magic Kingdom toll booth, and it was even more horrible than it sounds. First of all the toll booths are TWO MILES away from the actual park it self (a mile from the Ticket and Transportation Center and then a mile-ride on the monorail from there to the park). So I was working at Disney without actually being anywhere near Disney. Then, there was only one other CP (College Program-er) who really did not like me at all, and all the other people we worked with were old, retired men (not a single one of them was under the age of 60). Of course, I just stood by myself in a booth all day, and even our breaks were taken alone (and in a booth-sized room actually, which included the bathroom so the whole thing smelled like old man PISS), so it's not like I talked to any of them that much anyway. And then there was the exhaust fumes - my throat was on fire by the end of every shift. I fought tooth and nail to be transferred ANYWHERE, I genuinely didn't care where. I said I'd be a custodial worker just so long as I could be in the park. Eventually I did get transferred - to Splash Mountain no less, and I couldn't believe I was given such a fantastic position considering the fact that I said I'd take ANYTHING. Plus, out of 6000 CPs, over 100 requested to be transferred, and I was only one of THREE to be granted her request, so you better believe I praise God for my fortune every time I think about it, because the transfer literally made my DCP. It was the best thing that ever happened to me, because the remainder of my DCP was the most wonderful time of my life, and that would not have happened had I been stuck in the toll booth all those months.

So, you can imagine that I'm a bit nervous going back since we don't find our specific assignments until we get down there. I know I'm in Attractions, but that's it. At first, I was terrified that I might, again, be given a role that I don't like, and given the number of people who pulled strings for me to be transfered last time, it's not something I would attempt to do a second time. I wouldn't want to seem ungrateful for the opportunity, either. But then I thought about it some more and realized that there really are very few attractions I think I might not enjoy, but no matter what, I'd at least be in the parks. I'd be at Disney World. That was all I wanted when I wanted a transfer last time, and really, even if I were working, oh say, the Tea Cups, my "office" would be Fantasyland and think of how awesome my view of the fireworks would be every night. Granted, I really don't want to work anywhere in Fantasyland, I'd much rather be on Tower of Terror or Test Track or back on Splash Mountain, or even something smaller like The Living Seas with Nemo or Star Tours would be fine; but you know what? No matter what I get, it won't be the toll booth. That's the important thing. And even if I DO hate my job down there, I hate my job NOW, but at least then I'll be hating my job at Disney World where I can spend all my free time.

Doesn't stop me from praying about it every night (along with world peace and orphans and blah blah blah), but, well, I think I'll be okay. And I'm incredibly excited.

--6--

Anyone have any idea what happens to mail that you forget to put the apartment # on? It's been a week and a half and I've not gotten it Return-to-Sender'd, so I assume it either arrived or it's lost in the snail-mail-o-sphere somewhere.

--7--

Struggling to think of a 7th thing here, so I'm just going to link to my still-in-progress West Coast trip photo trip report over at Theme Park Review. I've only got the first 6 1/2 days so far (day 7 is half posted), but I'm trying to update it once a week till it's finished. So if you're a fan of roller coasters, theme parks, and my horrible writing, then you might find it entertaining.

Time for a food post.

I love this woman. LOVE. HER. I want her house, her ranch, her husband (OH. EMM. GEE. I didn't know they made 'em so handsome), and - holy crap - her love story (minus the excessive sweat and weird skin breakout on her wedding day).

I also want every single one of her recipes, and lucky for me, she wants the whole world to have her recipes too.

That's how I came about the following recipe which has quickly become one of my favorite things to make for lunch. It's cheap, it's simple, it's super tasty and I could eat it every day. Sometimes I do. And best of all, it's a single-serving-friendly recipe, which is great for all the lonely souls like me out there! Hooray!

First, let's start with a potato:
Boil the potato in lightly-salted water 'until its "fork-tender" as the recipe says, but I'm gonna give you a little tip that I learned the hard way - it takes a LONG ASS TIME for a potato to boil to "fork-tender" point. Yeah. Did not know that. The first time I tried this recipe, I took the potato out after 15 minutes or so, tried smashing it with a glass (one of the next steps), and instead of gently collapsing underneath the pressure, it went flying across the room and hit the adjacent wall. Turns out it takes more along the lines of a half hour (at the very least) to get the potato soft enough. Who knew?

Next, while the potato is boiling, pour some olive oil onto a cookie sheet. Don't skimp on this step, lest the potato be forever stuck (and it will). And since this step doesn't take as long as it takes the potato to boil, spend the remaining 29 minutes and 55 seconds checking e-mail, spending time with your loved ones, curing the common cold...whatever you feel like. Make this recipe your own.

8 days later, after the potato has finally softened an adequate amount from all the boiling, place it on the cookie sheet and smash it with a potato masher. Or if you're a backwoods hillbilly like me who does not possess such a totally commonplace and necessary kitchen utensil such as the potato masher, the bottom of a glass seems to work just fine.

And now it looks like this.


Next, use a pastry brush to generously spread some more olive oil on the top.

Next, sprinkle some Kosher Salt on top. Not regular salt. Kosher salt. This is very important because I it is important that food be as ethnically and religiously as diverse as possible. Like our President. Also, because there is a difference in taste. TRUST ME. Do not, oh foolish mortal, use the unclean salt on thine here taters. (Well, that was a mish mosh of grammatical personalities, wasn't it?)


And don't skimp on the salt either. It really makes or breaks the potato.


Now, Ree's recipe calls for just salt and fresh ground pepper as far as I can remember, which I DID use, but whenever I see the words, "season with salt and pepper," my brain takes that as, "season to taste," and I throw whatever the hell else I feel like on it. Here I'm sprinkling some Oregano. By the way, shaking your one hand vigorously apparently causes your entire body to shake as well, as seen by the blurriness of the photo.

(Just checked the original recipe and I see that Ree also uses fresh chives. Not something I typically carry in the house, which is why I make up my own substitute. I'll have to try the chives thing sometime though, and I'll let you know how it goes)


Now, this particular time, I also used some sort of creole seasoning. I know - creole and oregano? REALLY, Natalie? But that's just how I am - I am a LOOSE CANON when it comes to herbs and spices. Take it or leave it. Normally for this recipe, I use some sort of steak seasoning that we have laying around, but the creole seasoning was just a culinary whim I decided to go with, and while it was still tasty, I do prefer it my "usual" way.

Next, bake on the top rack of a super-hot 450-degree oven for 20-25 minutes. Make the edges black and crispy because therein lies the flavor. Observe:

Oh yeah.


Now, Ree leaves it here. And I'm sure they're perfectly delectable just as is. But when have I EVER shied away from the option to use cheese and sour cream? NEVER. Never, ever, EVER.

Which is why my version always looks like this:


And there you have it. Great as a side, or if you eat like a bird (as I do), it's filling enough for a whole meal. Try it. Taste it. Love it.

The end.

Maybe it will fall out while I'm wearing this skirt! How ironic would that be?

First, some warning. The skirt you are about to see is NOT as obnoxiously shiny and blue in real life as it appears in the photo. Thank you, crappy built-in flash.

Having said that:


Well, there it is. I like it, I think it's adorable. And I only broke TWO needles making it! Actually, I broke the very LAST two my mom had, which meant that I had to finish the zipper by hand. But turns out there's a special "foot" (some sewing term that might as well be "frunklezeitcherwich" because I have no idea what it means) just FOR sewing on zippers which 1) who knew? 2) would have been nice if I knew that to begin with because 3) it would have probably prevented the breakage of needle #2. Live and learn, folks. Live and learn.


It's not perfect, but I think I could wear it in public and not get laughed at, and that's always a refreshing change. I didn't use a pattern or anything (nor did I with my Halloween costume). I just sort of laid out a skirt I already had, pinned the fabric on it, cut along the pins, and prayed. That kind of thing would probably get frowned upon on Project Runway*, though, so let's just keep that between you and me. But, come on now, check out those belt loops. Be a little impressed here. I am.

*I actually had to look up the show to make sure it was in fact fashion-related and not some, oh I don't know, airport renovation show or something. It's sad how out of the loop I am.

---

One quick thing - given my dog's recent, um, illness, as well as the fact that this is a condition I have never heard before last week, I found it mildly disturbing that one of the blogs I read on a daily basis had a post today that linked to this.

So naturally I'm taking it as a sign from the universe warning me of the day when I wake up to find that my Very Special Place is no longer where it should be. And you better believe that day will be blogged about.


(Hahahahaha NO. No it won't.)


(Eh, maybe. We'll see.)

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 4)

--1--

Remember how I said I thought I might be developing Restless Leg Syndrome? Because of how my legs had been all, you know, restless and whatnot at night for over a month before that? (And they were! I swear! My legs were DRIVING ME CRAZY with their restlessness!) Well, the very next night after I mentioned it on here, I never had another symptom again. Not during another single night. Completely cured. Apparently my powers of suggestion extend so far as to eliminate anything I might ever suggest I have. Which now leads me to say that I also believe myself to have the flu, typhoid fever, Parkinson's, every type of cancer, MS, infertility, gout, shingles, a severed arm, a tilted uterus, an allergy to werewolf bites, Alzheimer's, and also that pesky inability to fly.

--2--

I went to the store today to buy some ice cream (if there is no ice cream in the house, there might as well be no oxygen), but in making my way through the deli area whilst taking part in a few cheese samples (what I just said about ice cream? Same goes for cheese. Every bite of cheese is my favorite cheese), the man behind the counter let me know that all cheese was 25% today. He then proceeded to tell me that the individually wrapped cheeses (this was the fancy cheese department, not the lowly, poor man's Kraft cheese area, scoffs I) did not have the sale price on them since they didn't have time to go through and remark all the customized-by-weight price tags (which he said in the same please-forgive-me-I-beg-of-you tone he would use to tell me he had just ran over my cat), but that all I needed to do to determine the sale price was to subtract 25 cents per dollar that the cheese cost. Thank goodness men like him exist so that they may help all of us who never graduated 2nd grade mathematics.

Don't get me wrong, he was nice and all, but it scares me to think that we live in a world where adults need to be instructed how to calculate a quarter percentage off of $5.

But then I bought some nice pieces of Gruyere and Parmigiano Reggiano, and magically the fear melted away.

--3--

Now I'm going to take a break from my usual snarkiness and post this here youtube video that absolutely guts me every time.

Really, I should just embed this video 7 times and call it a day. It has far more value than anything else I have to say here.

Then again, you can just as easily press play 7 times in a row (or a million, like I have), in which case I still have four things to come up with.

--4--

At first I was starting to think that this Friday thing I do here is a bit silly given the fact that I've so far only managed to post one other entry a week, but then I realized that at least this MAKES me post something on a (somewhat) regular basis. And if it wasn't for 7QTF, you'd be stuck with just that one lonely post a week.

And don't say that'd be an improvement. Hmph.

--5--

I didn't take that daycare job at the church. Just couldn't do it. Not with me going to Disney next year. Also, because I wasn't offered the job. Ha! No, they gave it to someone - as I predicted - with actual teaching credentials, and honestly, I was a bit relieved. I didn't have to lie in Church about how yeah, I'm TOTALLY in for the long haul, when I'm actually leaving in two months. And I also didn't have to worry about the fact that they actually wanted me to come up with my own teaching regimen and run the class like an actual Pre-School (which is practically Kindergarten, which is practically middle school, which is practically college, and let's face it - do I seem like Professor material to you?) rather than a crappy daycare where parents don't care what the hell the kids learn/don't learn so long as they don't have to do anything as prosaic as raise their own kids, pish posh!

But I did get a (very) part-time nanny job for a woman with two young boys, and that's going well. It's still not quite enough hours for me to justify quitting my current job, but, eh, I figure I can tough it out for another month or so. I'll live.

--6--

I'm sewing another skirt! (Does that really call for the exclamation point, though? Eh, it's already there, so I'm gonna leave it.) Since my Halloween skirt turned out decently enough, I decided to make one without dozens of non-double-entendre balls hanging off of it. You know, a skirt I could wear in public without all the questions. It's blue and green and beautiful so far! I'll finish it tomorrow and post pictures...eventually.

--7--

Finally (thank GOD), I asked my mom about two weeks ago what she wants for her upcoming birthday, and she told me. And did I write it down? No, because I'm 24, which means I know everything and remember everything and am perfect in anyway and why on earth would I write something down when I only need to retain the information for 5 more weeks, and anyone who can't remember a gift idea for FIVE MEASLY WEEKS deserves to be shot. SHOT I SAY. From the toes all the way up to the head. Slowly. Very slowly.

Except I totally forgot what she wanted. I forgot I had even asked her until I asked again last night, and she reminded me that I asked and THAT SHE TOLD ME. I then tried to remember what in the world she said she wanted - I at least remembered it was a DVD of some musician, which only narrows it down to about a million possibilities. But we had watched the 30 Rock episode right before this conversation, and since Liza Minnelli had been mentioned in passing, she somehow got stuck in my head and was the only singer-ish person I could think of. Her and Mama Cass, though I can't really explain that one.

Neither of them were correct.

Anyway, if anyone has any idea what musician a soon-to-be 57 year old woman would want on DVD, please let me know. My mom never did remind me, the cagey wench.

Whom I love.


----

EDIT: WAIT, NO I'M 23! 23 years old! How the heck do I not even know my own age?! I genuinely have been living the past 10 minutes under the impression that I was 24 (perhaps longer if we assume take into account the thoughts of my subconscious). Ugh, I need a drink.

The Chicken Little of Falling Uteruses

Wow, was it really just 4 days ago that I said I might make my own blog layout, and here I am ONLY ONE BLOG POST LATER and it's DONE?! Normally it's not my style to be so on top of things, but then again it's totally my style to distract myself from Very Important Things (like schoolwork, laundry, ending world hunger) with Not Quite As Important things (like a fancy photoshopped header), so I suppose in amazing myself by not procrastinating, I'm not amazing myself by procrastinating. What a swirling, tangled pretzel of cause and effect that is.

(It's not exactly perfect, this layout, but the imperfections are tiny and something I can live with for now, at least until I have some massive school project that needs immediate attention, in which case you better believe I'll be here tweaking away. By the way, that header is gorgeous, if I do say so myself. And I do. I say it myself, and I say it a lot. Gor-gee-US!)

(Annnnnd, looks like I'll have to add in a word about humility in tonight's prayers.)

--------

Oh, how shall I put this story delicately...? Hmm. Well, this weekend, my dog's lady bits started falling out of her.

I'll give you a minute to let that sentence sink in.

That's right, her lady bits. Falling out. Of her body. I had no idea that could even happen - aren't things, like, attached? Sewn together, maybe? Superglued? I don't know how the good Lord assembled us, but apparently one day her girly parts de-chained themselves and started following the light at the end of the tunnel, if you get my drift. Then my mom had to go and tell me that it can happen in people too! PEOPLE! People like you and me! My vagina could fall out any minute! You might poop a fallopian tube next time you go to the bathroom! Makes you think twice about straining, doesn't it?

ANYWAY!

Skittles (our dog) had to go in for emergency surgery on Monday, but they might as well have been putting her to sleep for how awful I felt about it. She's a three pound dog who had never even seen the inside of a cage, let alone been forced to stay in one AWAY FROM HER FAMILY overnight and the most part of two days. We were able to take her home late Tuesday afternoon, but they were hesitant to let us because even though the surgery was successful and she didn't seem to be having any complications, they were worried about the fact that she wasn't eating (apparently they offered her every last meal and treat they had, and she wouldn't even sniff a single one of them). We then explained that our poor dog - our baby! - has such awful separation anxiety that she won't eat a single thing if we're not around. We could put an entire t-bone steak on the floor for her to enjoy while we're out of the house, but nope - she'd ignore it and go and lie down (and sob herself to sleep, I'm sure) on some article of clothing of mine I've got strewn about on the floor, just so she could smell me. It really is the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen. So wouldn't you believe it, the second we get home and try to feed her a milkbone, she's running at it and swallowing it whole like she hasn't eaten in 36 hours. Because she hasn't.

(Pardon me while I break here to cry my guilty little eyes out)

Her stomach is all sliced and stitched and awful-looking, and she smells like vomit, but for the most part she seems normal. Then again, her "normal" has always consisted of sitting on my lap all day long and not moving until I move, so I guess the activity bar is set pretty low. Still, I've seen her jump and run a bit without problem, so I guess I'm more traumatized than she is.

Also, while my mom was getting ready for bed the other night, I heard a loud thump and her scream. I asked her if she was okay, and she just said, all morose-like, "You don't want to know." "Are you sure?" "You really don't want to know." Now this was the same day as Skittles' surgery, and so between having fallen body parts on the mind and being slightly hypochondriac, the only thing that I could think of that I wouldn't "want to know about" would be something that involves more chunks of body falling out of people. So after hearing a thump, a scream, and my mom telling me that I didn't want to know what just happened (and she was in the bathroom, so I couldn't see what was really going on) I - ever so logically - assumed that her uterus had just fallen out and was laying in a bloody puddle on the floor because that is TOTALLY A RATIONAL ASSUMPTION THAT ANY NORMAL BEING WOULD THINK OF, I KNOW. (PLUS! I had just watched another "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," and every time a woman goes to the bathroom on that show, a BABY falls out of the canal and into a toilet, so my mind was FIXED on body parts falling out of lady parts behind the closed door of a bathroom). Anyway, I urgently asked my mom if I needed to call 911, and she was all, "What? 911...?" And then she came out holding a can of bug spray. Ahh, never mind then - she had seen a cockroach. She didn't lose her uterus, it was COCKROACH. Well, I was close, right? Either way, turns out she was right, though. I really didn't want to know that, either.

Then - and I swear this is true, that I really am this thick - five minutes later, I finally remembered my mom had a hysterectomy 15 years ago. So...definitely no falling uterus from her.

Anyway, welcome back, Skittles. We missed you so much!


(P.S. If you like what you read here, or if you really, really don't but you have a very kind and charitable soul that helps you to see the very-hard-to-spot beauty in people like myself, there are ads on this blog. I'm not supposed to tell you what to do with them, but, well, sometimes when I visit a site I like, I click on stuff. Just once or twice. Nothing fancy. Just to support the cause, you see. I dunno, maybe it's just me. Anyway, I'm just saying that's what I do. You can do what you like. That's all. Love ya.)